My parents were up for a visit. My mom and I decided we should go for a walk downtown and do a few errands. There were some dark clouds coming in but my husband assured us that we had a little while before the rain started.
Seriously. Do I need to finish this story?
We got a couple of errands done and noticed the clouds were coming in rather quick. The wind was picking up and the air was cooling off. We decided we'd keep going as the clouds didn't look very big so we figured whatever was moving in wouldn't last very long.
It started to sprinkle. But we're not made of sugar. We wouldn't melt.
And then it started to pour. We ran for cover. And hid out in the post office along with a handful of other people. We watched the water cascade down in sheets, we watched people get their mail looking like drowned rats and we watched and we watched. Finally, it started to let up. A bit. For some reason, rain always looks less wet than it actually is. My mom decided that it had let up enough that we should just make a go of it. She had a hat; Lane had a hat, besides, it couldn't be that bad. And she was tired of watching my dad drive by in the car and not being able to flag him down.
So we started walking. Well, more like jogging. It was cold. And wet. And I made sure that the world knew how I felt about being cold and wet while wearing a tank top, capris and flipflops. But my son seemed to think it was humorous as long he could see his mom puddling away in front of him while his grandma pushed him in the stroller.
We made it home. And the rain had pretty much stopped by the time we got there. Of course. Needless to say, we were wet.
But we were greeted by a great big puddle at our back door. Perfect for the supervised puddling of a one-year-old.
So that's what we did.
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